Sir Walter Scott

Scared out of his seven senses.

Scared out of his seven senses.

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

Every cock fights best on his own dunghill.

Every cock fights best on his own dunghill.

High minds, of native pride and force,
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse;
Fear, for their scourge, read more

High minds, of native pride and force,
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse;
Fear, for their scourge, means villains have,
Thou art the torturer of the brave!